


Indisposed

by gryffindormischief



Series: Fresh Pickled Toad [24]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9076891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: Sometimes an unexpected change of plans can bring about a happy result.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yay Christmas break means more writing time! Hope you like :)

Teddy let out a rather weak moan as Harry tiredly offered up the bright yellow and blue childproof cup filled with chilled pumpkin juice to soothe his raw throat. Sighing after a few labored gulps, Teddy tucked his fever-heated forehead against his godfather's neck, sleepy breaths from chapped lips brushing across pale skin.

Running a gentle hand over Teddy's mousy brown mop, Harry stood slowly, ensuring his precious cargo was secure in his grasp, and moved toward the cheerily decorated room – complete with moving artwork depicting various magical creatures care of one Luna Lovegood – reserved for his toddling godson.

Still chubby childish fingers gripped the collar of his stained t-shirt, tightening at the movements before Teddy's tiny form relaxed again as he nuzzled closer. Over the last few hours, Harry had learned a few new things about his godson and childcare in general – illness comes on suddenly and unexpectedly, chilled pumpkin juice is a wonder cure, and young Lupins prefer potions to be spread across their godfather's clothing and furniture to taking them.

The metamorphmagus' artistic proclivities aside, the afternoon of bonding had been an unexpected one. Harry tended to visit Teddy and his grandmother weekly, and every other weekend he stayed in Harry's London flat. The weekends in between – of which this particular Saturday was one – tended to fall on Ginny's game days – which was again true of this Saturday – meaning Harry was free to attend without concern for Teddy's rather strict schedule.

The proverbial wrench was thrown into the works around lunchtime, when a green-looking Andromeda flooed, eyes glassy and cheeks colored with an unhealthy flush begging a boon. Ever devoted to his godson and the older woman, Harry immediately stepped through the flames, retrieving his young charge and the necessary accouterments for a weekend away from home.

Still at this point, he planned to attend the Harpies' third game of the season, Teddy enjoyed the game and following Harry's cheers and jeers with childish screams of his own. Both were excited at the prospect, although in hindsight, Harry should have caught on to the younger wizard's sluggish responses faster. No sooner was the last button on Teddy's green and gold jersey was fastened than he lurched forward and emptied the contents of his stomach onto himself and all surrounding surfaces, including Harry's just broken in trainers.

Grimacing, Harry flicked his remarkably unscathed wand at the mess, tidying the worst of it as he shuffled toward the loo with Teddy in tow. Both stripped down to their underclothes, Harry tossing the dirtied things into a pile far from Teddy's still grabby hands, and rinsed the young Lupin off thoroughly in the cool stream of suds and water. Once dressed, Harry tucked Teddy into the cozy loveseat, unable to refuse his teary requests to stay close to Harry – and the telly. Bustling about in sweats and a worn t-shirt, Harry nearly forgot to send a quick missive off to Ron explaining his absence from the game, but did so in between placing a chilled cloth over Teddy's feverish head and whipping up a Pepper Up Potion.

That had been hours ago, and the duo had braved various symptoms of the virus as they rippled through Teddy's tiny body until he was worn out and too sleepy to fight Harry's declaration that sleeping in his warm bed was best. Practically asleep before his pink tinged locks hit the pillow, Teddy's fingers slipped from around Harry's neck and unconsciously drew the Martin Miggs blanket up tight beneath his chin.

Harry brushed a kiss across his godson's clammy brow and slumped out to the kitchen, head ducked in the act of sniffing at his much abused top when a pop sounded in his front room, followed by the telltale sounds of Ginny discarding her unnecessary gear.

A barefoot Harpy padded around on quiet feet before she eventually located Harry where he leaned against the remarkably spotless bench, cuppa in hand, glasses smudged and crooked. "Hey there, stranger."

"Ron got you the message?" Harry murmured, moving to pull her close before thinking better of it and settling for an affectionate caress of her freckled cheek.

Ginny crinkled her sun kissed nose at the state of his wardrobe but wrapped her arms around him, sliding close and pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat nonetheless, "You missed one hell of a game sir."

Placing his mug on the counter disinterestedly, Harry let his hands run from her shoulders down toward the curve of her waist, the light press of his right hand drawing a wince she unsuccessfully tried to hide. With a frown, Harry tugged her vest up to expose her ribs, swearing as colorfully as the bruise that mottled her skin.

Grinning somewhat bashfully, Ginny stole a sip from his cup, "Took a beating."

Brushing a finger down the bridge of her nose, Harry frowned, "Maybe it's best I missed it."

"You're normally the voice of reason though. Weasleys can be quite hot-headed."

"Is that right?" Harry drawled sarcastically, dodging her half-arsed punch as he tugged her toward the couch and the glow of the muted telly.

Ginny snuggled into his side as she kicked her feet up onto the tissue-strewn table, "Mum nearly stormed Tutshill's changing room. Looked like one of Charlie's dragons."

"I can't believe I _missed_ it," Harry groaned, dropping his head to the back of the couch.

Humming in agreement, Ginny slid her hand beneath the hem of his t-shirt, caressing gently, "How's the patient?"

"Fever's down," Harry supplied, carding slim, calloused fingers through her still shower damp and sweet smelling hair.

"That's good."

Harry huffed out a tired laugh, "Aside from the fact that every time he sicked-up it was rather projectile in nature, I think the illness isn't too serious, as these things go."

"Quite an old pro you are," Ginny teased.

"By the time we have kids I'll be a master."

Before she had a chance to respond, Harry's body thrummed with tension, "I mean I –"

Placing an open palm across his chest calmly, Ginny held his gaze, "I assumed I'd bear your children someday, dear."

Letting out a breath he hadn't consciously held, Harry relaxed again, "Oh, er- good."

"Not any time soon," she clarified playfully, slinking into his lap.

"Right," Harry answered vaguely, gripping her hips gently.

Dragging close-cropped fingernails down his chest, Ginny smiled thoughtfully a far off look in her dark eyes, "But I'd like to have some little Potters running around eventually."

Harry leaned forward, bracing Ginny's lower back naturally with his palms and rubbing the tip of her nose with his.

With a grin, Ginny pressed her mouth to his, open and playful, a kiss that Harry deepened quickly, pulling away all too soon, leaving his girlfriend bereft and pouty. "I can't snog you when I smell this bad."

Locking her legs on either side of his hips, Ginny mirrored his earlier ministrations, sliding her hands down his sides, "I can think of a way to fix that."

Harry quirked a brow in question, receiving a non-verbal response as Ginny tugged his shirt over his head and pressed his back to the couch cushions, her lips finding his easily.

Hands working their way beneath her vest, Harry murmured against her neck as he nipped at her skin playfully, "I should miss games more often."


End file.
